Dark Stripper Extras
by JIBBSFOREVER in Paris
Summary: One-shots from my other story "The Stripper and the Diner Guy." All dark and tough subjects that might be overwhelming to some readers. Please read with caution - but also - read "The Stripper and the Diner Guy" before reading any of these


A/N THIS takes place after Lorelai, feeling like she as no other option, decides to become a prostitute. She is sitting, waiting in the limo - when...

And with that, she reached over to pull the handle. She didn't know what she was going to do. But she knew what she wasn't going to do.

She reached over to grab it, but found that the door had opened.

And she jumped back, realizing that her worst nightmare was coming true.

He was standing there. In the dark. She just stared as her only way to escape fled away. Not because she couldn't have turned to the other door and ran away. Not because this man was going to tie her up and kidnap her. But because her reason came back. There was nothing to run to. Because this is where life had pushed her. This is where her choices had led her. And here she was.

He spoke first, and asked, "Can you move over so I can get in?"

She about jumped over two feet scrambling to get out of his way. Not the way she wanted to first appear. Jumpy and scared. Men preyed on that.

He got into the limo, and he shut the door. And locked it.

Locked it? Was that part of the procedure? Was that something that signaled he was going to be possessive and angry? Was he going to hurt her?

"So, what's your name?" He asked.

What's your name? That's how he started the thirty-minute session with her? When he could be doing so much else? Maybe all men really were stupid.

Using her stage name, she said, "Jade." She would never tell anyone her real name. Not here.

He looked like a guy she would offer a dance to in the club. He looked about in his thirties or forties, a little grey hair that didn't make him look older, just sophisticated. In a shirt and tie, Lorelai would have pegged him for being the high – tipping kind of guy. And now she knew why. He could spend this much money for a half-hour. That would be him being rich.

He reached over across the seat and touched her for the first time. On her face. She startled back, and she watched as confusion came to his face.

And she knew that no matter how afraid she was right now – she had to make this work. Like she had been telling herself for the past week. There was nothing else for her. If this didn't work, she was destitute. She would not have enough to stay in her home. To pay her bills. To feed her children. So she had to do this. And if she didn't do this right – if he gave a bad review to Oscar, she knew Oscar wouldn't let her keep her job if she couldn't do it right.

Knowing she had made a mistake, she moved a bit closer to him, trying to make amends and said, "I'm sorry." Making up excuses on the fly was something that came easy to her. "Your hands were cold and I jumped. Sorry."

He extended his hand again, pulling her face closer to his. His hand wasn't rough on her skin, which made sense with how well-off this guy must be. He used his hand that wasn't on her face to slowly brush up her thigh to her hemline. She wanted to pull away. She never let a man touch her like this at work. But she steeled herself against that instinct, and let him run his fingers up underneath her skirt as he brushed his lips against hers.

But he didn't stay on her lips long, and his hand didn't stay under her dress hemline long. Soon he pulled away and brought both of his hands to her chest.

She hoped this was how it was supposed to go. Was she supposed to offer him something? Offer to take her clothes off? Offer to take his clothes off? Was he going to take his clothes off? She just had to follow his lead.

His hands started kneading her breasts, despite her dress and bra still being on. His large hands wrapped around them, and she heard him moan just a little as he said, "God, are those real?"

She didn't know how to take that. Did they feel too good to be real? Were they too big? Was she supposed to tell him if they were fake even if they weren't? She didn't know.

So she honestly answered, "Yes. They are." She tried to keep the judgement out of her voice, but she wasn't sure if she did that enough.

He started grasping her harder as he moved his body closer to hers on the seat. His gaze was fixed watching her cleavage move as his hands squeezed and molded her breasts.

She knew she wasn't supposed to just sit there. Years of dancing made it clear that the woman's job was to entice the man. And him just being able to touch might be great right now, but in a few minutes he might get tired of that.

But she didn't know what to do. When she gave a lap dance, she could do that almost without thinking. She could pretty much get most men to release right there in their pants if she wanted to – which, normally, she didn't because… gross. But that was how good she was at selling the idea of sex to them.

She apparently stunk at actually selling it to them.

But she didn't have to wonder long before the man, still engrossed in her cleavage, said, "Talk dirty to me."

She wanted to say, "Say what? I didn't know that would be in the job description." Or, "I hope this is the dirtiest situation you've been in, so why should this have to get any dirtier?"

But years of dancing taught her one thing. She couldn't' just say what she was thinking. And she had to act like she knew what she was doing.

In her sexiest voice, one used to entice many men out of hundreds of dollars' worth of lap dances, she asked, "What would you like me to say?"

He looked up at her, dropping his hands to his sides, and said, "I don't know. I just feel like this isn't what I thought I would be getting."

Her heart again started pounding. She was not fulfilling his expectations. If those weren't met, then he would tell Oscar. And she knew no matter how much she didn't want to be there, she had to do something, make him remember how good she was. If only so that he would tell Oscar.

Trying to find that dancer that could get almost naked in front of a room full of men, she took a breath and said, "What if I don't talk dirty and we just DO dirty?" His eyes brightened, and she asked in her seductive voice, "What are you going to do to me?" She hated herself for what she was doing. But at least she was hating herself – the self that would have a job at the end of the night.

"Well…" His eyes clouded over with even more lust. "I want to fuck you."

She leaned in closer to him, her face close to his neck as she whispered, "Well, then, fuck me." The goosebumps on his neck were visible as her breath tickled him.

Now, it was like he was a different person. Almost empowered, and he said, "First I'm going to fuck your face."

She hated how he was talking to her. She had been talked to like this before – every night. There was never a night that the men didn't like to tell her what they would do to her – their fantasies as she gyrated up their hungry bodies. But this – this was different – because he was actually going to do it.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked in a fake innocent voice that seemed to embolden him even more.

He gestured to the floor and said, "Get down there."

She made sure to brush her cleavage in front of his face as she climbed down to the ground, kneeling on her bare knees on the carpet. As she got down, she listened as he unzipped his pants, and by the time she looked up, his dick was right there in her face.

"Now you're going to suck my cock, whore." He said, power beginning to take over as he brought his dick right in front of her face. Then he said, "Open up!" Like he was about to give her a piece of candy. But that thing in front of her was no piece of candy.

She felt such humiliation as she parted her lips. She looked up into his eyes and saw that the uncertainty and lack of fulfilment in what he had spent his money on nowhere to be found.

Thankfully, he didn't just shove it down her. But he waited for her to begin. It took a second for her to muster up the strength to pick her lips and tentatively stick her tongue out. She could tell it had been a while for this guy because even just the touch of her tongue made him jump a little. Brushing her tongue around to the side, she hated the taste of him on her mouth as she ran her tongue up his length.

Getting a little anxious, he said, "Hurry up. Get it in your mouth. Not just teasing it."

She would have rolled her eyes if her job hadn't depended on him. But she licked her way back down and literally swallowed her pride before she brought his cock right into her mouth, not all the way down. Thankfully, he didn't push himself, and she used one of her free hands to stroke the part of him that wasn't in her mouth. Moving in tandem, she moved her hand and mouth in a synchronized movement, and she watched as his eyes closed in ecstasy. And she took that to mean she was doing ok. Up and down she went, watching his hips thrust forward every once in a while. A moan escaped his lips and she wondered if she got him off, if this would be all she had to do for him.

But unfortunately he stopped her, pulling his cock out of her mouth while he said, "Take your dress off."

This should be the part she was good at. She was good at getting naked in front of people. It didn't bother her that men looked at her with lust while she disrobed. This wasn't supposed to be the hard part.

She was still sitting on her knees as she reached up and touched the zipper that she had been so afraid would get stuck. And right now, at that moment, she wished it would. Because maybe then this guy would have pity on her and just leave her…

"I said, get out of the fucking dress so I can fuck you!" His voice was loud and jarring as she hesitated about opening her dress. The man who had politely asked her to move over was completely changing. And she looked up to see him glaring down at her. "I paid for time with a whore, and I'm going to get it." He then leaned up and grabbed the zipper to her dress and violently revealed her body to him.

Gasping in shock as she sat there on her knees, she tried to say something. Tried to make him happy. So he wasn't angry. But before she could even say anything, he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her backwards onto the ground of the limo.

After her late start with making him happy, she felt horrible with the next words she had to say. But she said them with confidence so he didn't feel like he had made a mistake. "Do you have a condom?"

He looked surprised, and then said, "I didn't… I thought you were going to be willing to do it without?"

Remembering what Oscar said and just the thought of his bare skin in her mouth gave her the courage to say, "I have one." Reaching into the little brown bag from the cubby, she pulled out the little package and handed it to him. There was a bit of disappointment in his eyes as he tore the package open and covered himself. But she was fine with that disappointment. And she was glad Oscar had made sure to give her some protection.

"This is going to be fun." She heard him say, as he finished unzipping the dress all the way to the bottom, and pushed the sides of the dress off of her body – the only thing covered were her shoulders where the sleeveless dress was attached.

Her heart was pounding as he grabbed her knees and spread them open, only her little thong separating her from what she had never done before. The look on his face was one of lust and hunger. And power.

"Please tell me you know how to take off your underclothes." He said, demeaning her while he kneeled right at the opening of her legs.

Knowing that this was the point made her hands shake as she reached down and slid her fingers underneath the thin thread that rounded her hips. Pulling her knees up to her body, she pulled the thin g string down her legs and up and over her heels.

She had never felt more naked than she did right then at that moment.

Not the first night stripping.

Not the first time a customer had made a move on her.

Not the first time a man had grabbed her and stuck his hand down her thong.

Laying there in the back of the limo, with her dress unzipped but her bra still on, her back against the floorboard of the car, her legs spread wide with the man staring down at her like he was in heaven – that was the time she realized that she was naked. And disgusting.

The man wasted none of his time staring at her, and he quickly pulled his pants down to his ankles. And then he crawled up the length of her body, so his face was right above her head. She felt him reach up and slap one of her arms, which were bent towards her head. "Take off your bra." She looked up into his eyes, dark with lust and power, and knew that she had to make the best of this. She had to make him like her. No matter what happened. No matter how much she hated herself as she reached underneath her back and undid the buckle of her strapless bra. He grabbed the front of it and threw it off, almost immediately putting his face into her cleavage and groaning.

His touch on her breasts made her sick. She could feel his breath against her as he spoke. "Shit, you're like the best hooker I've ever had." Confused because he seemed to think she was not good at all; she only took comfort in the fact that he might give Oscar a good report about her. "You're just so fresh. Not like those street sluts that have been used by like every man within a ten-mile radius." His tongue made little circles over her nipples, and she cringed as he bit down a bit, but not enough for her to ask him to stop. She wanted him to like her. For her job.

Him touching her chest made her sick. But not as sick as when he reached his hand down her stomach, barely grazing her skin until he got between her legs. Almost instinctively, she gasped and tried to close her leg, but his legs were in the way where he was kneeling between her.

He must have thought that her reaction to his finger now massaging her clit was one of excitement instead of the fear and horror she really was feeling. Because he leered over her and said, "Did you like that? Huh? You want more?" And he moved from laying above her to sitting on his knees between her, where he now violently inserted one, and then two, and then three fingers into her.

Did she like it? Lorelai just wanted to start crying right then. She hated it. She hated watching a man think that she would enjoy any part of this degrading scenario. She hated lying there, completely naked on the floor of a limo. Nothing about this was anything she would ever like.

But she knew the answer that she needed to give. The answer that would make him happy. And, in this sick situation, if he was happy, then Oscar would be happy. And then she would get paid. And she would be happy.

So she just nodded her head as he continued to massage her and thrust his fingers into her. And she said, "I like it." Not very sexy response, but it was something.

"Ready for more?" He asked as he pulled his fingers away from her and grabbed his cock and positioned himself in front of her. He grabbed the outsides of her thighs, lifting them just a little as he spread his knees farther apart.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around what she was doing. How she found herself here completely naked in a limo with a half-naked man. So she was not ready as she felt the tip of him up against her. She tried to tell herself to relax. That she just had to make it a few more minutes before this was over. And it would hurt so much less if she relaxed. Closing her eyes, she tried as hard as possible to relax her legs, her abdomen. Her entire body. But she wondered if that helped at all as he eased into her. She could feel her walls expanding, and she could feel the slow burning as his cock pushed farther and farther into her – sealing her fate farther and farther into the hell she deserved.

She must have whimpered, because she heard him say, "Haven't had something this big for a while, have you?" He then slowly pulled out, and she watched him look down at his dick, measuring how far it came out of her. And then his eyes met hers and he said, "You're about to get the best fuck of your life, whore."

She snapped her eyes closed and bit her lip to keep from crying out as he thrust his cock into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp of pain as she felt so dry, so unprepared. She felt his hands around her thighs digging into her skin as instead of moving his body, he just pushed her back and forth. It was horrible because her body moved almost without her permission, as if someone else controlled her.

Her eyes closed couldn't block out his grunts as he pounded into her – harder – faster – deeper – painful. But despite how she could space out when she was dancing – she could be worlds away while men enjoyed her body dancing tantalizingly up and down their body. But this – with each clawing on her thighs to get farther into her – with each slap of their skin forcefully connecting – with each disgusting grunt she heard from him – she couldn't – she couldn't get out of this limo. Not with her body. Or with her mind.

She could feel him tense in her, and she was more than thankful that Oscar had insisted on a condom, because she had no strength to tell him to pull out of her. And she waited as he finished, taking a few seconds of his heavy breathing that she wondered if she would hear in her nightmares that night.


End file.
